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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731798">#foryoupage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacchy/pseuds/peacchy'>peacchy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, Confessions, Crack, Crushes, Established Relationship, F/M, Fights, Flirting, Fluff, Gen, High School, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Sibling Rivalry, tags will be updated as I add more chapters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731798</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacchy/pseuds/peacchy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of one shots inspired by the couple-centric tiktoks i find.<br/>• up next!<br/>↳ bokuto koutaro</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>487</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. miya atsumu • facebook tags</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi! i hope everyone's doing alright despite the ~ quarantine ~<br/>i recently downloaded tiktok and i kept seeing these silly couple vids<br/>i thought, "this is so [insert haikyuu character here]"<br/>and perhaps,...,.,, it would be really cute to see them in reader-insert fic form?<br/>ahahaha,, unless?</p><p>(this is so self-indulgent)<br/>((tiktok prompts will be linked in each chapter))</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here's this chapter's <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@fleetwood_crack/video/6803178048037473542">tiktok</a>!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The feel of your living room’s air conditioning unit was an oasis in scorching mid-afternoon heat. Summer break was meant to be enjoyed with out-of-town beach trips and tanned skin, amusement park dates that left you with sore vocal cords from rollercoaster rides, and the cold sensation of ice cream dripping down your fingers after a day of shopping.</p><p>Your teachers thought otherwise. They just had to dump your class with a mountain of schoolwork to accomplish over the break.</p><p>One of the heavier deliverables included History class’s group work that called for a thirty-page paper on the Edo period and its literary advancements.</p><p>“As if we can actually squeeze out enough content to reach the page minimum,” your group mate, Nana, complains. She was one of the more intellectual girls in class but her own streak of complacency sometimes shone through, barring her from getting full scores in tests even if she was fully capable of doing so. Needless to say, it got her above-average grades without the need to study her eyebrows off. Being her group mate, you were relieved that she wouldn’t be a dead weight at the very least.</p><p>“I’m done making the timeline, so y’guys can continue where ya left off,” Atsumu informs you girls, his eyes still fixated on his laptop screen.</p><p>You watch him reposition a diagram label for the final time before he slams the device shut. “I’m going crazy. We’ve been working since nine in the morning. D’ya mind if I get some snacks?”</p><p>Atsumu had been in your house enough times that he had practically memorised the content of your pantry. And right now, he was craving for the box of Oreo-flavoured Pocky that sat pretty on the third shelf.</p><p>“Atsumu, I swear, if you eat my Calbee chips again, I am goi—“</p><p>He rises from the sofa, droopy eyes boring steely into yours. “What? Kiss me?”</p><p>Nana lets out a wretch, eliciting a laugh from the setter. “Can you guys not do that while I’m around? Have some compassion for the third wheel here!”</p><p>“Sorry, Nana-chan,” you lean on the couch to face her. “What were the chances of getting grouped with your own boyfriend, am I right?”</p><p>“No, [F/N]-chan, because mine goes to a different school.”</p><p>“Ah. Right.”</p><p>Atsumu ruffles through your snack cabinet before migrating to the fridge to hunt for other sugary treats. You take it as a sign to scoot over to Nana and show her the most recent finding of your intensive <strike>stalking</strike> research.</p><p>“Wanna see an old photo of Atsumu-kun?”</p><p>“Please don’t show me some outdated dick pic.”</p><p>“What? No!”</p><p>“Okay, proceed.”</p><p>You scroll through the thousands upon thousands of photos in your phone to tap on some low-quality thumbnail of the man in question. It reveals an image of one of Inarizaki High’s most prized possessions: Miya Atsumu posed for the camera, a tight-lipped grin gracing his fourteen-year-old features, donning his pre-bleach, jet-black hair. An identical silhouette behind him, most definitely Osamu, shares the same frame, shoulder width, and hairstyle. You weren’t sure if the lack of photo-focus on Osamu was because of a refusal for picture-taking, or simply because he was too preoccupied with watching the sports festival’s relay race event in front of him.</p><p>“Woah!”, Nana exclaims, her hands grabbing your wrist, pulling your phone towards her face to study the prehistoric photo in greater detail. “That’s him?” you nod. “That’s them?!” you nod again, your chest swelling with the pride of getting your <strike>stalking</strike> skills duly recognised.</p><p>“Right, right?!” you clutch her hand in skittish excitement, oddly reminiscent of every other pre-teen fangirl gushing over some celebrity. “Atsumu-kun looked really cute with black hair!”</p><p>“What’s all this about?”</p><p>Atsumu returns to the living room, stuffing a stick of Pocky into his cheek.</p><p>Nana darts her eyes from the phone, then to Atsumu, then back again to the phone. “I get it. I feel like he gave a completely different vibe than he does now.”</p><p>“Exactly! Honestly, I would’ve confessed to him on the spot!”</p><p>The volleyball player’s eyebrows knit. “Lemme see!”</p><p>Your outstretched hand is in front of his face in a second. He takes a step back and squints at the pixels on your phone.</p><p>His eyebrows knit even deeper. “That’s 'Samu.”</p><p>You and Nana belt out an <em>eh?!</em> at the same time.</p><p>“Yeah. S’not me, it’s 'Samu. Look’t the way his hair is parted. Mine’s opposite, ‘tcha see?”</p><p>Your hand drops down on your thighs, your bubble completely popped. Nana stares at him in bewilderment.</p><p>“But on Facebook, you were tagged in it! It was your name,” you recall.</p><p>“Yeah, no shit, even Facebook gets us identical twins mixed up s’times.”</p><p>You groan. Nana interjects, unable to help herself from mulling over that wasted excitement.</p><p>“And to think your girlfriend was just gushing over how cute that photo was.”</p><p>You whip your head to give Nana a <em>look</em>. It’s the one universally understood look that girls just <em>get</em>; it sends jolts down Nana’s spine, essentially spurring her brain to run a mile a minute before bumping into a sudden realization.</p><p><em>Girl, don’t</em>, your eyes widen by a fraction, jaw clenching.</p><p>“Wait a minute!” Atsumu’s voice thunders throughout the empty living room. “Cute?! Did I hear that right? Y’called my brother cute?!”</p><p>
  <em>Oh my god.</em>
</p><p>Nana plants her face into her palms. It’s too late now.</p><p>“Hey! I never called Osamu cute! Those words never came out of my mouth!”</p><p>The embarrassment was almost crippling you. An eruption of laughter was rising at the back of your throat, your voice getting more and more shaky with each syllable that your mouth gives away. Nana felt the exact same way, mouth helplessly twitching because she was watching you plead for innocence when both judge and jury know you to be guilty.</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s what'cha did just now!”</p><p>Nana snorts, fully knowing it’s her fault. <em>I know I’m guilty too but, holy shit, this is too good.</em></p><p>You lick your lips, feeling them to be way too dry all of a sudden. Nana lets out the ugliest, most unhinged laugh when your non-response indicates how bad you’ve been cornered.</p><p>Atsumu stomps his way back into the kitchen. Your legs give way and you end up spilling laughter beside Nana, the sounds reverberating through the walls of your house.</p><p>You wipe a tear from your eye. “Aww,” you coo, “Atsumu-kuuun, come back!”</p><p>“I’m taking the rest of your Pocky and leaving!”</p><p>The room floods with another wave of laughter. Your stomach is in such, such bad pain but you manage to crawl off the sofa, intoxicated with laughter, running towards your child-like boyfriend.</p><p>“I mean, I didn’t think I’d get into this when I started dating a twin!” you nearly topple Atsumu over upon contact. Your arms wrap around him, trapping even his arms in your death grip in hopes of toning down his temper tantrum.</p><p>Atsumu grumbles, worming his hands out of your straitjacket-like hug to pry himself away. “No!”, he shouts dramatically. “I know what’cha said!”</p><p>Your boyfriend races his way to the food stash, completely serious about his prior announcement. Quickly, you decide to undermine his plan.</p><p>By stealing his shoe.</p><p>
  <em>Miya Atsumu would never walk half-barefoot to the train station where hundreds of people line up, right? He’d rather die than let anyone see anything as uncool as that.</em>
</p><p>While he’s head-deep into your cabinet, you scramble to get his left Converse shoe. Nana sees through your plan and motions for you to chuck it towards her. She catches it flawlessly, sandwiching it beneath a couch seat before sitting atop it.</p><p>The Miya twin emerges from your kitchen, his jogging pants's pockets are strangely and rectangularly fat with snack boxes. He runs past you, down the main hallway, and into the genkan where the shoe cabinets are.</p><p>“[F/N]! Where is my shoe?!”</p><p>Your cheeks hurt from laughing at this point. “What shoe?!”</p><p>“Ya little…”</p><p>With a death glare, he looks at you and Nana before leaping towards the front door and making a run for it, wearing three distinct things: <em>only one shoe, his destroyed dignity as a boyfriend, and his hurting pride as the (self-proclaimed) better twin.</em></p><p>“He wouldn’t dare!”</p><p>Nana fishes for her phone in her pocket. The record tone of the gadget goes off, successfully catching grade-A footage of you tripping over your own house slippers to hightail after Atsumu, who evidently limps as he runs off into the empty street. A box of Pocky spills from his pants.</p><p>“Atsumu-kun!” you bellow something between a scream and a hitch of laughter. “Come back!”</p><p>—</p><p>The next day Atsumu goes in for volleyball practice, he finds the rest of the members huddled over Osamu and his phone. They watch the same eleven-second footage again and again, each replay collecting a chorus of deep laughs.</p><p>Kita hears the door behind Atsumu close when he steps inside the gym.</p><p>“Ah, you’re finally here,” he says with a lopsided grin, laughter fading away. “Did you ever get your shoe back?”</p><p>Osamu shoves his phone back in his pocket. “And d’ya tell her that if I dye my hair black, I’ll be waiting for her confession?”</p><p>
  <em>Classic Nana. I’m going to kill that squealin’ pig.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, shuddup!”</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. tsukishima kei • press play</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>disclaimer 1: this contains manga spoilers! the timeline is set during their third year<br/>disclaimer 2: the tiktok is probably nothing like this fic (except for like... one shared element lmfao)</p><p>the tsukki/reader angst fic i posted the other day was kinda depressing so i wanted to do him next for this fluff collection!<br/>but the tiktok i based this on is actually really sad,, i liked the concept though;;<br/>so i'm taking a tiny bit of it and turning it into something a lot sweeter uvu</p><p>i suggest you check out the <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@timmyfreel_/video/6813514346921086214">tiktok</a> before reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Sorry, I can’t eat lunch with you guys for a while. I need to prepare for the upcoming club recruitment week,” Yamaguchi explains with an apologetic smile, hand sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.</p><p class="p1">“Aww,” [Y/N] frowns. “You’re really leaving me alone with this snarky guy?”</p><p class="p1">“Hey,” the blonde cuts. “You’re welcome to eat somewhere else. It’ll save me from having to listen to you ramble for an hour.”</p><p class="p1">Her frown deepens. “As if you actually listen! You have headphones on majority of the time we’re having lunch any—“</p><p class="p1">“Anyway!” Yamaguchi interrupts, taking the girl’s own words and segueing it into his. “I’ll go ahead. They’re calling for club presidents and captains as representatives for today’s meeting.”</p><p class="p1">[Y/N] is suddenly met with a passing thought of sentimentality. While Yamaguchi’s explaining the rest of this week’s responsibilities to Tsukishima, she zones out and is met with the realisation that the three of them are seniors now.</p><p class="p1">As in they’ll be graduating in a few months. They’ll be parting ways. She’ll be off at her university of choice and they will be too.</p><p class="p1"><em>Has it really been that long since we started hanging out in first year?</em>, she wonders. The odd mix for a trio consisted of such a strange mishmash of personalities that she often wondered how they managed to become (and remain) such close-knit friends.</p><p class="p1">Although, there is one friend she wishes she’d graduate from the “just a classmate” label with. She cranes her head up to Tsukishima, his arms crossed as he listens to Yamaguchi stress out about the next few days. Her chest squeezes when he lets out a genuine laugh, fingers grazing his mouth to cover his white smile.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <b>Monday — Yamaguchi Goes To The Club Recruitment Event Introductory Meeting</b>
</p><p class="p1">[Y/N] and Tsukishima bid their farewells to Yamaguchi before settling down inside the classroom. His tall stature got him one of the the seats at the back row while [Y/N] was conveniently assigned to the seat in front of him. Her chair grazes the tiled floor when she turns it 180 degrees to bother the spectacled boy, his trademark white headphones propped around his neck as he scrolls down the Spotify app.</p><p class="p1">He was a terribly quiet classmate, only ever speaking when spoken to. The current dynamic was as awkward as she had imagined it to be without Yamaguchi.</p><p class="p1">She tries to break the ice. “What sort of music do you usually listen to?”</p><p class="p1">She feels a bit unnerved by how that sudden question left her lips. About ninety percent of her conversations with Tsukishima often started and ended with sarcasm. She mentally prepares herself, like muscle memory, to fire back with an equally snide remark in case he makes fun of her for asking such an out-of-character question.</p><p class="p1">“Indie rock mostly,” he answers plainly.</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima sets his phone down. “… when I’m not listening to your whiny voice,” he adds.</p><p class="p1">Oh. There it is.</p><p class="p1">She rolls her eyes, deciding on the intention to sustain a normal conversation with Tsukishima instead. “Can I listen?”</p><p class="p1">“What, and get your germs on my headphones? No thanks.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re so mean, you know that?!”</p><p class="p1">He removes the headphones from his neck and hands it to her anyway. She wears it without further ado.</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima taps on an Indigo la End playlist and presses play. Her head bops to the beat of the drums as he reaches into his bag to retrieve his bento box. He opens it and picks up a piece of chicken karaage.</p><p class="p1">“I like what you did with your hair,” he mouths.</p><p class="p1">She pushes a headphone back. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s nothing.”</p><p class="p1">He takes a bite.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <b>Tuesday — Yamaguchi Gathers Materials For The Club Recruitment Booth</b>
</p><p class="p1">She strolls back to her classroom with two curry buns in hand. She clutches the back of her chair and turns it to face opposite his table, repeating the same set-up as yesterday.</p><p class="p1">Her two curry buns are placed on his desk. Tsukishima examines the plastic-wrapped breads. “I don’t like curry buns.”</p><p class="p1">“They’re both mine, stupid. I’m not offering you any.”</p><p class="p1">She unwraps one and stuffs it in her face. “Hey, can I listen again?”</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima figures that it’s a lot better than the slight chance of fumbling over his words in the case she strikes up another conversation. The sudden intimacy of two people, just them sharing a small desk with barely an arm’s length of distance makes his heart pump blood faster than when Yamaguchi’s around at another end. Their kneecaps bump when she sits down, the awkward contact creating a hammering sound in his ribcage.</p><p class="p1">He decides that another lunch break spent watching her wear his earphones is the safer option. Yeah, he doesn’t think he can handle anything otherwise without making a fool of himself. After all, the experienced middle blocker was never one to rush into anything head-first. His calculations were often on point, granting him the upper hand.</p><p class="p1">“Sure. It’s in my bag. Go ahead and get it,” he says almost robotically.</p><p class="p1">She puts the earphones on and gives the phone to Tsukishima. He opens Spotify and taps on Official HIGE DANdism’s Traveler album.</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima observes her again, her lips curling up to a smile as she listens to Stand By You. “The piano’s really good,” she comments, eyes focused on which part of the curry bun to bite into next.</p><p class="p1">“You look the best when you smile, but I guess you look cute when you pout too.”</p><p class="p1">She pushes a headphone back. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“I said, don’t you have any other friends? Are you trying to keep up a streak of how long you’ll bother me at lunch?”</p><p class="p1">She hits him on the shoulder. “I already told you this morning! Amie has student council work, Yuki is sick. Just shut up and let me listen to this song!”</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima snickers.</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, now I have to start over,” she pouts, grabbing the phone from his hand to press the rewind button.</p><p class="p1"><em>Yeah, pouting’s cute too</em>, he thinks.</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <b>Wednesday — Yamaguchi Meets With Yachi For Manager Scouting</b>
</p><p class="p1">She rests her face on her hand while she doodles on Tsukishima’s table with a pencil. He reprimands her for vandalising his desk, obviously, but she continues her tiny sketch of some Slenderman-like character before labelling it “Tsukki” anyway.</p><p class="p1">“I wonder when Yamaguchi finishes club work. Not that I’m complaining. It’s so cool that he ended up becoming captain, don’t you think?”</p><p class="p1"><em>Cool</em>, the word imprints on Tsukishima’s mind. His nose scrunches up.</p><p class="p1">“I really thought your setter would end up nabbing the title though. What’s his name again? Kageyuno?”</p><p class="p1">“That king of the court, Kageyama? He can’t even spend thirty minutes in practice without accidentally scaring any of the lower years. He’s too intense.”</p><p class="p1">She chuckles. “I guess. He doesn’t look that mean outside volleyball, though.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Why are we talking about other guys?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima leans over to his bag and retrieves his headphones and phone. “You should listen to this. It’s an English song but it’s really good.”</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” she hums. “Gimme.”</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima hands over the headphones for her to wear before playing Mac deMarco’s My Kind of Woman. She fixates her gaze on the blonde in front of her, hand still resting under her jaw.</p><p class="p1">Feeling nervous under her stare given the proximity of their faces, he breaks away to retrieve his bento box. While his attention is devoted to unwrapping the cloth around his lunch, her finger wanders to the decrease volume button on Tsukishima’s headphones. <em>Thank god his phone is placed screen-down</em>, she lets out a sigh. <em>He would’ve seen it.</em></p><p class="p1">The music is low enough to merely whisper into her ears but loud enough to pick up on one or two notable guitar riffs, just in case he asks how she finds the song. She hears Tsukishima’s bento pop open.</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima proceeds eating lunch. His chopsticks hover over a slice of tomato before deciding to cut the piece of hamburger steak instead.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Hurry up. Say something already.</em>
</p><p class="p1">A few minutes pass by to no avail. She turns her head towards the window to watch a few students playing a short game of football, their gakurans deposited at the nearby bench.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>And it just don't make sense to me</em><br/>
<em>I really don't know</em><br/>
<em>Why you stick right next to me or wherever I go</em>
</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima trains his eyes back on her, finally relieved that she’s looking out the window instead. </p><p class="p1">
  <em>You're my, my, my, my kind of woman</em><br/>
<em>My, oh my, what a girl</em>
</p><p class="p1">“[F/N],” he tests the waters. She doesn’t respond. <em>If she’s listening to music plus staring out the window plus not replying to me, then it must equate to her attention focused elsewhere</em>, his mind formulates.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You're my, my, my, my kind of woman</em><br/>
<em>And I'm down on my hands and knees</em><br/>
<em>Begging you please, baby, show me your world</em>
</p><p class="p1">He pushes a bit more, confident the music is blasting through her ears. “I’ve liked you since first year.”</p><p class="p1">She whips her head towards him, back straightening as if jolted by thunder. “Are you serious?”</p><p class="p1">He creases his eyebrows, suddenly hearing the blood rush in his eardrums. “What?”</p><p class="p1">“What you said just now. Is it true?”</p><p class="p1">Okay, maybe he did miscalculate this one time.</p><p class="p1">Tsukishima sets his chopsticks down, trying to control the tiny tremor in his fingertips. “I didn’t say anything.”</p><p class="p1">“You did. I heard you.”</p><p class="p1">He leans over to snatch his headphones back. “You didn’t hear anything,” he repeats through gritted teeth.</p><p class="p1">She catches Tsukishima’s hands on his headphones, her much smaller ones barely covering the breadth of his veiny wrists. Her touch sets his skin ablaze and he hates it, he hates being cornered like this.</p><p class="p1">“I like you too.”</p><p class="p1">The song’s guitar riff fades out into nothingness. They sit there, staring at each other for what seems like an eternity. Nevermind the boys playing football at the courtyard, nevermind the girls at the adjacent table talking about make up.</p><p class="p1">She guides Tsukishima’s hands as she pushes the headphones away from her face. She doesn’t remove her hold on the headphones, nor does she remove the hold on his hands. She tightens her grip on him in the slightest way, as if he could pull back at any second; she wants to— no, she needs to seize this opportunity while she can.</p><p class="p1">She swallows thickly. “I’ve liked you since first year, too. Go out with me, Tsukishima.”</p><p class="p1">An embarrassed blush reaches the tip of his ears. He unclenches his jaw, chest falling as he breathes out a sigh of relief.</p><p class="p1">“I was supposed to say that,” he declares, that same butterfly-inducing smile gracing his features.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I guess not all miscalculations are all that bad.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. oikawa tooru • don't be suspicious</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>oikawa + coffee shop prompt? you know we had to do it to em<br/>(oikawa is so fun to write! i hope this hasn't been done yet hhh)</p><p>the <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/hkgpcd/">tiktok</a> for this is quite short so i tried my best to fill out an ending for it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The smell of roasting coffee beans and fresh cinnamon wafted throughout the quaintly rustic café; you were sure that the rich scent would be strong enough to remain on your clothes even after you leave later today.</p><p class="p1">Your fingers tap on the wooden table, the dated varnish shining against your appendages.</p><p class="p1">“You need to put yourself out there more, honestly,” the girl to your right asserts. Akari sips on her iced macchiato.</p><p class="p1">Mayu reaches out from the opposite side of the table to tuck a stray tendril behind your ear. “Don’t listen to Akari-chan. Take as much time as you need!”</p><p class="p1">You slump into your seat. “Why do you guys talk to me as if I’ve broken up with my nonexistent boyfriend? Weren’t we, open-close parenthesis, I, lamenting over the lack of guys in my life?”</p><p class="p1">Mayu tilts her head to the side like a puppy in training. “Did it sound like that? We were talking about how hopeless you are with boys, though,” she unknowingly stabs into your deflating ego. The one good thing about Mayu was that she was honest. The one bad thing about Mayu was that she could never sugarcoat anything.</p><p class="p1">You lower your forehead onto the surface of your shared table, almost slamming it upon impact. Akari clutches her cup in case your rock-solid head was forceful enough to overbalance her beverage.</p><p class="p1">“What does that to do with putting myself out there? Or taking my time?” you whine.</p><p class="p1">Akari takes another sip of her coffee. “You’re too shy, that’s why.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Jab.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mayu nearly hops out of her seat. “That’s right! All you do is hide behind the closest distraction to you!”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Jab.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“With a face like that, don’t you think it’s all going to waste?”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Jab.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Mayu, didn’t you just tell me to take my time?!” you gripe.</p><p class="p1">“I did! Take your time before you pounce on your target!” she winks.</p><p class="p1">You take a deep breath, unable to keep up with their conversation. “You know, if Sumire-chan were here, she’d defend me tooth and nail against you guys!”</p><p class="p1">Akari turns her body towards you. “Sumire-chan is on a date with her boyfriend, dummy. You think she’d shield you from our advice about your love—“</p><p class="p1">“Lack of!” Mayu quips.</p><p class="p1">“You think she’d shield you from our advice about your <em>lack of </em>love life?”</p><p class="p1">You glower. “You guys honestly have no mercy…”</p><p class="p1">Mayu’s hands find yours and entangles her fingers into your own. “That’s ‘cus we love you!”</p><p class="p1">You squeeze back before letting go. “And you guys tire me out,” you joke. “I’m hungry, so I’m gonna go order something. Want anything?”</p><p class="p1">“We’re good,” they answer in unison.</p><p class="p1">The café’s brass doorbell chimes as you rise from your seat, signalling that another patron has entered the premises. The walk to the marble counters had your attention diverted towards a different… snack.</p><p class="p1">He was a meter or two away from you, but judging from the minimal distance between his head and the doorframe, he easily stood over 180 centimeters. His hazelnut hair looked picture-perfect against the bucolic theme of the café, if it wasn’t for the trench jacket layered on his crisp, white polo. His hands were shoved in his trouser pockets and you observed his eyes scan through the room behind those Boston-framed glasses.</p><p class="p1">“… ‘scuse me. Excuse me.”</p><p class="p1">Your head whips towards the cashier. “Ah! Yes!”</p><p class="p1">“May I take your order, miss?”</p><p class="p1">You point at the refrigerated food display. “Could I get a blueberry muffin, please? For here.”</p><p class="p1">The cashier dials in your order and you hand over a few bills of yen. You look over your shoulder to see the the man seated opposite a darker-skinned guy looking cozy in his denim-layered hoodie.</p><p class="p1">“Here’s your change.” You turn your attention towards the cashier once more, not wanting to be embarrassed a second time. “We’ll call you when your order is ready. Thanks!”</p><p class="p1">“Gotcha. Thanks.”</p><p class="p1">You pass by their smaller table before reaching your own. Not that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you hear them talking about Karasuno? Nationals? Ushi… Ushiwaka?</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Is that a team? Do they play a sport? Basketball, maybe? They look pretty tall.</em>
</p><p class="p1">The cushion squeezes under your weight when you sit back down.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be suspicious. Mayu-chan, look at your four o’clock. Akari-chan, at your ten.”</p><p class="p1">Mayu picks up her caramel frappe, sipping it before peering behind her shoulder. Akari leans to her left, doing the same. The latter nudges you with her elbow, giving you a thumbs up.</p><p class="p1">Mayu whips back, visibly trembling from the excitement. “He’s cute! Really cute! Is he a model?!”</p><p class="p1">“Right?!" you match her enthusiasm. "I don’t know, he could be. Although he looks like our age.”</p><p class="p1">“I like the other guy though… the one with big muscles,” Akari trails off as she watches his guns flex over three layers of clothing.</p><p class="p1">Mayu sets her drink down. “[F/N]-chan, I dare you to go up to the one with glasses and ask for his LINE!”</p><p class="p1">“W-what? No way!” you clutch your receipt. You pause for a while before perking up, as if a lightbulb had appeared over your head.</p><p class="p1">You take out your phone.</p><p class="p1">Akari groans. “See! This is exactly what we’re talking about,” she looks over to Mayu who watches you swipe your phone screen. “Mayu-chan, tell her off before she takes the picture!”</p><p class="p1">“Send it to me after, [F/N]-chan!”</p><p class="p1">Akari pinches the bridge of her nose.</p><p class="p1">“What?” you whisper under your breath, phone held close to your chest as you focus the camera on the eye candy at hand. “I wanna show Sumire-chan too. I don’t want her feeling left out!”</p><p class="p1">You tap on the white circle before a bright, blinding light emits from your phone twice.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Click!</em>
</p><p class="p1">The flash was on.</p><p class="p1">Akari and Mayu are as cold as their iced coffees when they freeze in pure terror. They look at you, eyes wide and wordless.</p><p class="p1">You’re as immovable as stone.</p><p class="p1">The two boys halt their conversation. The taller one turns towards your direction, his glasses reflecting the overhead lightbulbs of the café. You have no idea what he’s thinking; his eyes are obscured by the glare of the light.</p><p class="p1">The darker-haired guy mutters something to his friend, and you know, <em>oh my god you just know</em> it’s about you because he nods his head towards your direction.</p><p class="p1">“I want to die. Please tell my mom and dad that I jumped off a building. By accident.”</p><p class="p1">Eye candy boy rises from his chair and starts walking towards you. You sit there, the weight of your body feeling the shame of taking a guy’s picture without his permission, and the humiliation of getting caught for doing so.</p><p class="p1">Akari and Mayu continue staring at you, frozen in their seats, physically unable to look at him approaching the table.</p><p class="p1">He stops in between you and Mayu.</p><p class="p1">“Hi. Um, I saw you taking my photo,” he holds back a grin.</p><p class="p1">“Y-y-y-yeah. I mean, oh my gosh. Did I really?” you stutter. “I mean! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know the flash was on.”</p><p class="p1">He chuckles, a dimple appearing near his mouth. “No, it’s okay! It happens!” he reassures, waving his hand. He could kill you with just that angelic smile, you swear by it. “If you want, we can take one together too?”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Is he mocking me? Yes? No? That can’t be, he genuinely looks like he wants to. Is he used to this? But what if he’s not? Is he going to make fun of me when he sits back down with his friend? Actually, what's his friend thinking? Is he grossed out? What if they label me a stalker?</em>
</p><p class="p1">Words leave your mouth before you actually think your reply through. “O-okay.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>What am I doing?!</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mayu brightens up after seeing the development in front of her. “I can take it!”</p><p class="p1">You hand her your phone and she’s completely oblivious to your shaking hands. You gather your legs so you could push off and stand beside him until he interrupts your movement, making himself welcome to the vacant couch seat beside yours.</p><p class="p1">He scoots over to you, arm positioning on the seat space behind your back to balance himself.</p><p class="p1">“One, two, three, and— say cheese!”</p><p class="p1">Trying not to blow over how he was literally centimetres away from you, you manage a shy smile for Mayu.</p><p class="p1">Your friend hands the phone back to you, the photo fully displayed on the screen. You both take a peek, praying that he doesn’t hear the hammering of your heartbeat. While a hesitant grin is ghosting on your face, the toothy smile on his is accompanied by the slight tilt of his head towards your own.</p><p class="p1">He leans over, face incredibly close to yours. <em>Oh lord, he smells so good. Can you get intoxicated off of smells? Is that possible?</em></p><p class="p1"><em>“</em>Cute! And the photo too!” he notes.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Is spontaneous human combustion a thing?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Could you send it to me?”</p><p class="p1">“A-ah yeah, sure, like via bluetooth? AirDrop?”</p><p class="p1">He shakes his head. “Through LINE. Here’s my number!”</p><p class="p1">You realize you’re entranced by him when your fingers gain autonomy to open the messaging app, exchanging details with the tall brunet. Akari and Mayu share glances like some old perverted geezers, and you swear you can see them hide their giggles in your peripheral vision.</p><p class="p1">The cashier behind the marbled counters suddenly cuts through the thick air. “[F/N]-san! Blueberry muffin for [F/N]-san!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh!” you snap out of it. “That’s me.”</p><p class="p1">“[F/N]-chan, huh?” he cocks his head to the side to observe your beet-red features. “I’m Oikawa Tooru. It’s nice to meet you!”</p><p class="p1">He extends his hand for a shake. It’s about as warm as your face.</p><p class="p1">“Nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san,” you say back, trying not to tremble through your voice.</p><p class="p1">Oikawa scoots his way out of your booth before standing up in full height. He extends yet another hand towards you.</p><p class="p1">You look at his hand as if it were an alien specimen.</p><p class="p1">“You were going to get that muffin, right? Come on, I’ll help you up.”</p><p class="p1">“O-oh, okay,” you mutter. You take his hand once again and he pulls you towards him, your head turning upwards to only validate your former hypothesis about his tall frame. “I’m really sorry for the trouble, Oikawa-san.”</p><p class="p1">The same dimples appear near his mouth as he smiles. “No worries. The pleasure's all mine. See you around, [F/N]-chan!” he says before returning to his tanned friend.</p><p class="p1">The walk to retrieve your muffin was hazy. You had no idea how you found your way back to your friends.</p><p class="p1">Mayu couldn’t help but burst into laughs whereas Akari shot you a cat-like smile.</p><p class="p1">“I wonder, did you pick up Oikawa-san, or did Oikawa-san pick you up?” Akari questions. Mayu lets out another chortle.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, fine. I get it. Maybe I am a bit awkward with guys,” you take a nibble out of your order. “I got his number though,” you declare with self-esteem trickling back into your body.</p><p class="p1">“Who’s gonna text first? What do you think, Mayu-chan?” Akari asks.</p><p class="p1">You assume you steal a glance at Oikawa until you realize your gaze is met with his eyes already on you. You both turn away embarrassed.</p><p class="p1">Mayu blushes for you like some middle schooler. “Definitely Oikawa-kun.”</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. ushijima wakatoshi • right now?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me thinking about ushiwaka: damn. damn BOY. DAMN BOY HE THICCCCC BOY THATS A THICC ASS BOY DAMN</p><p>this <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@http.papicheerio/video/6804968018259627270">tiktok</a> was hilarious;; only volleyball idiot ushi can match this energy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">What’s not to like about Ushijima Wakatoshi?</p><p class="p1">Star athlete, top three ace in Japan, volleyball captain of the favourite team to represent Miyagi for Nationals. Level-headed, no-nonsense, says it as it is. He’s a simple guy and that’s what makes him cool.</p><p class="p1">Maybe a bit too cool. You have yet to see him flustered, and you’ve made it your personal mission to get him fumbling through his words.</p><p class="p1">He had a habit of blurting out the most cringe-worthy things without even realizing it. His backhanded compliments never even register as compliments to him; he was just too honest for his own good. You think you gained weight on your butt? He'll cup an ass cheek, give it a firm squeeze, and say <em>you didn't, it's still the same size, [F/N]</em>. Worried your shirt's too skin-tight and revealing? He'll hand you his jacket and say<em> here, [F/N]. Wear it. I’ll get a boner if you’re looking that sexy.</em>And he'll say all that, face completely devoid of any ill intent, almost as if he was just reciting in class.</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend often reduced you to a mumbling mess, worming in embarrassment, wondering how those shameless words can roll off his tongue with such ease.</p><p class="p1">So just for once, you think it would be hilarious to see the tables turned.</p><p class="p1">“I lost again! Toshi-kun, let me win every now and then,” you exasperate. The switch joy con is set aside on the bed you’re both laying on.</p><p class="p1">“That wouldn’t be a race anymore,” he says point-blank. You puff, an attempt of cutesy behaviour falling on blind eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Rematch?”</p><p class="p1">You roll over to the edge of the bed, creating distance between the both of you. “No more. You’re no fun to play Mario Kart with.”</p><p class="p1">A deep chuckle leaves his throat. “Okay. What do you want to do now?”</p><p class="p1">He pushes up to lean on the side of his body before snaking a strong arm around your waist to drag you back to him. Giving up, you flip around to see him face-to-face.</p><p class="p1">You've seen a bunch of these couple pranks floating around social media. Wouldn't it be a sight to behold to have your Wakatoshi blushing deep red?</p><p class="p1">“Toshi-kun, you’re the love of my life <b><em>right now</em></b>,” you utter the last two words with painfully slow emphasis.</p><p class="p1">He props his head on his arm, an earnest gaze on his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you. You too are the love of my life.”</p><p class="p1">Okay, maybe that was too cryptic— especially for him— to think about twice.</p><p class="p1">Ushijima wonders why your eyebrows suddenly knit together.</p><p class="p1">“Did I say something?”</p><p class="p1">“Nothing. Wanna play Overcooked 2?”</p><p class="p1">“Sure. I can get the cartridge.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes please.”</p><p class="p1">He leaves the bed to retrieve the game case on a nearby shelf before inserting it in the console. Ushijima watches the screen load the game up, characters bouncing onboard a food truck.</p><p class="p1">“Wait,” he positions himself to sit at the foot of the mattress. “What do you mean by <b><em>right now</em></b>?”</p><p class="p1">Your face is level with his thighs so you almost pull a neck muscle looking up at him.</p><p class="p1">Yeah, you should’ve expected him to be a bit slow with these things. Either way, your lips curl up into a smirk seeing him waltz into your trap.</p><p class="p1">“Think about it. You’re the love of my life <b><em>right now</em></b>,<em>” </em>you reiterate the exact same way.</p><p class="p1">His eyes travel to a bare wall. You can almost hear the cogs working overtime in his brain.</p><p class="p1">“Does that mean your love only applies to now?” he questions, narrowing his eyes when his gaze finds its way back to you. “I won’t be the love of your life later on?”</p><p class="p1">You let out an airy laugh. “Nope. Try again.”</p><p class="p1">Ushijima lays back down on your bed, back flat and feet still on the floor of your bedroom. He’s probably short-circuiting from that mind-boggling statement.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t understand," he deeply furrows his thick eyebrows. "Are you cheating on me?”</p><p class="p1">You crawl your way to his chest, hands resting on his pecs as you perk your head on top to look at his troubled face. Quite like the Cheshire Cat to this confused Alice.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t look at me like that. I’d never. I already have the best.”</p><p class="p1">The attempted flirt is absorbed by him like a rock would soak up water (read: it doesn’t).</p><p class="p1">“Why <b><em>right now</em></b>?”</p><p class="p1">“Because,” your hand rests on his sharp jaw. “years from now, another one will be calling you daddy.”</p><p class="p1">Ushijima idly traces the small of your back, unknowingly tickling you with the tips of his fingers.</p><p class="p1">“But you already call me that in bed.”</p><p class="p1">You poke his cheek in frustration. “I mean when we get older and have a baby!”</p><p class="p1">He hums. “Oh. I get it.”</p><p class="p1">What a lackluster response. “That’s it?”</p><p class="p1">Ushijima cranes his head down to look at you before he opens his mouth once more. Your eyes light up in anticipation.</p><p class="p1">“You want a baby.”</p><p class="p1">That light disappears as quickly as it arrived.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, [F/N], but we’re still in high school. I can’t support one as a student.”</p><p class="p1">This backfired horribly.</p><p class="p1">“Wrong again! And it doesn’t mean I want a baby right now!”</p><p class="p1">You rest your cheek on his chest, worn out and beaten down by this brick wall of a man. He didn't even have to do anything.</p><p class="p1">Ushijima motions himself to rise his torso from the bed. You remove yourself from him and he sits upright at the edge.</p><p class="p1">“Sit here,” he says, patting his lap. You oblige without thinking much of it.</p><p class="p1">“Not like that. Put your legs around my waist.”</p><p class="p1">“W-why?”</p><p class="p1">He pulls your thighs closer to him, the gap between you both disappearing. You mentally curse him for wearing those thin athletic shorts when you graze over a familiar bump. His large hands have his thumbs circling your hips and you feel a brush of his calloused fingers on the skin between your shirt and your cotton pajama bottoms.</p><p class="p1">“No babies right now, but we can practice in the meantime.”</p><p class="p1">In this relationship, the only person fumbling through words is you.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. kageyama tobio • let's run</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(i seem to have a habit of feeling bad for the characters i write angst for, then proceeding to write for them in this series... the angst!kageyama i wrote the other day still hurts,,)</p><p>this ended up a bit heavier than i expected it to be? tw for some assault, physical violence</p><p>anyway i kinda went crazy with this prompt uhhhhhhhhh here's the <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@hollyhickman30_/video/6821910582942502149">tiktok</a>! enjoy this other volleyball idiot!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Getting into a new relationship is always an exhilarating time. The thrill of uncovering the more unknown facets of your significant other was exciting at best, and perhaps a tad bit awkward at worst. You knew he had been playing volleyball since his early childhood; his starting position as a first year spoke volumes of his undeniable talent. However, you were quite surprised when you found out just how much of a health buff he actually was.</p><p class="p1">Like the first time you entered his room.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Sorry for the clutter.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You survey his pristine room. Clutter? Where?</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Kageyama-kun, you lift weights?”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Ah, yeah. It helps condition my arms.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">Or the first time you encountered him jogging around the neighbourhood while you were out to grab some missing dinner ingredients from the convenience store.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Kageyama-kun! You’re out late,” you say, feeling shy in your cartoon-themed shirt.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Hi, [L/N]-chan,” he huffs as he continues jogging in place. “I’m just doing my night run.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“You’re really fit, Kageyama-kun. I feel kind of self-conscious seeing how active you are,” a nervous giggle spills from your lips.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“I need to be. I can’t be the best if I’m not in top form,” he proclaims as if it was as simple as one plus one.</em>
</p><p class="p1">They’re small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it details about him. He wasn’t the most open person, but what he never talked about in dialogue always showed up in action through the extensive time that you spent together. When you reflect on your relationship with him, you almost feel sorry for yourself upon realizing just how differently drastic your own sedentary lifestyle was compared to his. What are you, a root crop?</p><p class="p1">The sun was only beginning to set. Club activities were suspended for two weeks to allow students to prepare for their upcoming exams. Thanks to that, you were able to walk home with Kageyama for the next few days. You lived a few blocks away from each other, after all.</p><p class="p1">“Kageyama-kun, I think I’d like to start exercising.”</p><p class="p1">He links his fingers into yours. “That’s good, [L/N]-chan.”</p><p class="p1">You soak in the praise. “I think it’s about time I start doing something active. I might try jogging.”</p><p class="p1">He squeezes your hand. “How about we run together today before studying? I’ll show you what route I usually follow.”</p><p class="p1">The color drains from your face. <em>My boyfriend expects me to keep up with him? On my first day of working out?</em></p><p class="p1">“I think that would be fun,” he mutters, a shy smile finding its way to his features before you get to reply.</p><p class="p1">How could you say no to this guy?</p><p class="p1">You squeeze his hand back. “Sure! Let’s change into running clothes,” you suggest as you see your house coming into view. “I’ll wait for you at your house.”</p><p class="p1">“I can pick you up.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, your house is further up than mine. I’ll warm up by jogging to you.”</p><p class="p1">And so you do.</p><p class="p1">You were tightening your ponytail when Kageyama walked out of his front door. He thinks you didn’t catch his lingering stare on the way your leggings hugged the curves of your hips.</p><p class="p1">“What do you think? Do you like it?”</p><p class="p1">“I-it’s nice.”</p><p class="p1">You flash him a smug grin. It makes him color his cheeks redder.</p><p class="p1">“A-anyway. Let’s go?”</p><p class="p1">If jogging meant getting such cute reactions from your boyfriend, then it must be an activity worth investing in, right?</p><p class="p1">Kageyama starts out at a manageable pace. You got yourself working up a sweat with your forehead already glistening under the dimming afternoon sky, clouds mixed with hues of violet and orange.</p><p class="p1">“[L/N]-chan, I’m all warmed up now.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>That was just a warm up? So the real thing hasn’t started yet?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay if you can’t match my pace yet.”</p><p class="p1">“No! I’m good,” you huff. “I’m raring to go!”</p><p class="p1">Kageyama holds his tongue back. “Alright.”</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend sets off like a machine and you almost stumble on your face trying to keep up. Despite how hard you push your legs, you can’t seem to match his pace. You are, however, thankful for the five-feet running distance between you. If it wasn’t for that, you’d probably kick yourself if he looked back and saw you already sweating bullets.</p><p class="p1">You check your smartwatch.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>It’s only been twenty seconds?!</em>
</p><p class="p1">In your attempt to keep your dog-like panting under wraps, Kageyama eventually widens the gap. He probably thinks you’re still inches behind him.</p><p class="p1">The pulsating sound of your heartbeat surged throughout your eardrums. Your willpower tricks you into sprinting so you could catch up to your boyfriend, but the tightening sensation in your right calf screams otherwise.</p><p class="p1">A cramp was forming.</p><p class="p1">You were so unfit, it’s unbelievable.</p><p class="p1">Your legs start to slow down, sweat dripping down your chin. You hang your head down to catch your breath, putting your arms akimbo when you come into a full stop.</p><p class="p1">Kageyama wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. He probably took a turn.</p><p class="p1">“Great, not only do I have to wait for him to find me but also explain that I got tired that quickly, too?”</p><p class="p1">Was exercising always this demotivating?</p><p class="p1">You decide to settle that once your obnoxiously fit boyfriend finds his way back to you. You spot a bicycle rack a few feet to your right and lean back on it, focusing on regulating your breathing.</p><p class="p1">The sky’s violet hues were becoming more and more pronounced as the seconds ticked by.</p><p class="p1">You take a face towel out of your track jacket and start patting yourself dry.</p><p class="p1">“You look thirsty.”</p><p class="p1">The ponytail on your head swings back when you turn around. The voice is revealed to belong to some thirty-year-old man with frizzy, unkempt hair.</p><p class="p1">He looks sleazy.</p><p class="p1">You decide to ignore him.</p><p class="p1">“Out for a jog?”</p><p class="p1">The grip on your face towel tightens.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I’m talking to you.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes,” you turn to him with a forced smile plastered on your cheeks. “I am. Just taking a quick rest before I resume.”</p><p class="p1">“You look pretty worn out to me.”</p><p class="p1">You could feel a vein pop.</p><p class="p1">“No, I’m good.”</p><p class="p1">“I can give you a ride home. Wanna ride on my bike?” he proposes, head cocking to the bike two bars from you.</p><p class="p1">“No, sir,” you drawl the honorific out. “I am fine.”</p><p class="p1">He takes a few heavy steps towards you before placing a nicotine-smelling hand on your left shoulder. “Now now, no need to get all polite.”</p><p class="p1">You steel up, pushing his hand away from you. “Don’t touch me.”</p><p class="p1">The side of his mouth curls up, a canine tooth-baring grin showing itself. “You’re pretty feisty, aren’t ya? I’m just trying to be nice, miss.”</p><p class="p1">You rise from the bicycle rack you’re leaning on as a defensive measure. As much as you’re putting on a brave face right now, your heart is pumping as fast as you jogged just minutes ago.</p><p class="p1">“Please leave me alone. My boyfriend’s looking for me.”</p><p class="p1">The older man scoffs. “What, some skinny high schooler coming to get ya?”</p><p class="p1">He grabs your wrist in a vice-like grip. “You’re really cute. My house is just up that corner, how about we spend the evening together?”</p><p class="p1">You uselessly pull your wrist back. “Stop! That hurts!”</p><p class="p1">He drags you to a corner, a side-alley that connects two main roads. The sun is almost down and the lack of street lamps in this particular passageway makes your eyes pool up with tears in fear.</p><p class="p1">“Help!” you scream. “Someone! Please help me!”</p><p class="p1">He shoves a palm up your mouth, the smell of cigarettes making your stomach churn in disgust. “Shut up!”</p><p class="p1">“Oi!”</p><p class="p1">The both of you turn to the opposite entrance of the deserted alley to see your boyfriend racing towards the scene; he's wearing a glare so sharp he might as well dice this man up.</p><p class="p1">The sleaze didn’t even have time to blink before Kageyama jumped on him. He tackles him to the concrete, Kageyama's weight pushing the older guy to the ground. He coils a fist and throws back two consecutive punches to his jaw then brow bone, the back of his head bouncing off the gravel beneath him. It knocks him out cold and leaves his mouth slack open.</p><p class="p1">Kageyama is breathing heavily, his shoulders moving in unison with his huffs. The adrenaline continues to pump through his veins; he wipes his knuckles on his shorts before promptly pulling a shaking you into a crushing hug. It’s the first time he’s done that while you were together.</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”</p><p class="p1">You let a tear spill out. “You're late.”</p><p class="p1">He holds your cheeks in his palms, forehead touching yours. “And you were too slow.”</p><p class="p1">You glare up to him. Kageyama presses a chaste kiss on your trembling lips. This, too, is a first.</p><p class="p1">“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”</p><p class="p1">He leads you back to a main road, a protective arm slinging around your shoulder. “Sorry I left you. I should've realized sooner.”</p><p class="p1">"You kissed me, too."</p><p class="p1">He gulps, allowing the spur of the moment materialize. He thinks he might have to redo that in a better, more romantic setting.</p><p class="p1">You stay silent for a while, the day finally setting on you both. The street lamps begin to illuminate one by one.</p><p class="p1">"I should put a leash on you. You know, the ones that extend if you push a button?"</p><p class="p1">He playfully pinches your ear. "What am I, your dog?"</p><p class="p1">"You sure did bark like one back there."</p><p class="p1">You could have seen him blush if it wasn't for the post-run glow on his cheeks. "I did what I had to do. Do you think I killed him?"</p><p class="p1">You throw your head back. "Did you want to kill him?!"</p><p class="p1">Kageyama takes a few seconds to reply. "Nevermind. I don't want to be convicted for murder. I don't think they'll let me play volleyball anymore."</p><p class="p1">You see the roof of your house a few meters away. "That was why you didn't want to kill him? Because you wouldn't play volleyball anymore?"</p><p class="p1">He shrugs his shoulders when you let out a laugh. Take away his cold intensity, your boyfriend was just like any other volleyball idiot.</p><p class="p1">“Kageyama-kun, I think I should stick to aerobics instead.”</p><p class="p1">“Some judo would be good too.”</p><p class="p1">The both of you stop in front of your house. You see your mom preparing dinner from the window.</p><p class="p1">You take his hands into yours before peering into those cobalt-blue eyes. “I might consider judo, but only if you let me practice on you. That's what you get for leaving me alone.”</p><p class="p1">He grimaces.</p><p class="p1">"Fine. We can tag-team the next creep that bothers you."</p><p class="p1">"Tag-team? Isn't that wrestling?"</p><p class="p1">"Aren't they the same thing?"</p><p class="p1">Yep, definitely a volleyball idiot.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. miya osamu • bro code</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/kxX2CX/">tiktok</a> has no storyline whatsoever so i made one up in which: osamu and reader are classmates and they've been pining for each other for the longest time but they both play too much,,, then you add atsumu who's out to make his twin's (love) life living hell</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>Ding-dong.</em>
</p><p class="p1">A certain bleached-haired twin runs down the wooden footsteps of a staircase. He hears his mom echo a mild complaint from the laundry room, telling him to <em>be careful, you’ll slip</em>, but he shrugs it off with a listless <em>yes, ma!</em></p><p class="p1">Atsumu walks past their front yard and towards their gate, the iron creaking open to reveal a girl holding a folder of worksheets.</p><p class="p1">“Hi there,” he says, swinging the gate wider just enough for him to see her clad in casual wear. Was she a student from Inarizaki? He couldn’t tell without a uniform. “Can I help you?”</p><p class="p1">Her eyelids flutter when Atsumu tilts his head down to inspect this stranger.</p><p class="p1">“Hello,” she begins, “I’m [L/N] [F/N], a classmate of Miya Osamu-kun’s. I'm here to drop off this week’s homework since he was sick.”</p><p class="p1">Atsumu’s eyes perk up with recognition. “Oh! You’re <em>that</em> [L/N]-chan he keeps talking about!”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry?”</p><p class="p1">“I was beginnin’ to get annoyed at ‘Samu; he never gave me any more details,” he expresses, eyes creasing up with an all-knowing smug. “He told me he was expectin’ someone to visit yesterday, but I didn’t know it would be <em>you </em>of all people!”</p><p class="p1">Her shoes scratch the gravel when she shifts her feet, fidgeting at the overfamiliarity. “I was supposed to drop by yesterday but I got caught up with errands. I figured it would be too late if I visited the Miya household yesterday. I’m really sorry about that.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t worry about it,” the twin grins with reassurance. He looks down on the folder she’s clutching with both hands. “Homework, right?”</p><p class="p1">She nods. Upon transferring the sheets upon sheets of word problems to his hands, an older woman’s voice interrupts the handover.</p><p class="p1">“Who is it, Atsumu?”</p><p class="p1">He looks over his shoulder. “Ah, hey ma. It’s ‘Samu’s classmate. The one who was s’pposed to deliver the goods.”</p><p class="p1">She flicks the back of his head. “What goods? Don’t make it sound like we’re dealing illegal items!”</p><p class="p1">Atsumu rubs the back of his head. “Hi, sweetie. I’m sorry for making you go all the way to our house— and for this mannerless boy,” she jeers at him despite wearing a perfectly warm smile. Atsumu scowls. “Where are your manners? A pretty girl comes over to our house and you don’t even offer her anything?!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh no,” she waves her hands. “It’s okay, really. I just have to drop this off—“</p><p class="p1">“Atsumu, go prepare something. There’s leftover cake in the fridge.”</p><p class="p1">“I was going to have that for dinner!”</p><p class="p1">She shoots him a fierce glare. If Atsumu had a tail, it would have tucked underneath his legs as dragged his feet back inside.</p><p class="p1">“Miya-san, it’s fine, I promise—“</p><p class="p1">“Come, come!” she coaxes, the gate widening for her to step in. There was definitely nowhere else to run, especially when the Miya twins’ actual mother was already holding the door wide open for her. She hitches a breath before following behind the Miya matriarch’s footsteps, a forced smile forming on her lips for getting roped into their household. This was going to be a long afternoon.</p><p class="p1">They step into the genkan and she neatly sets aside her sneakers underneath the ledge. Mrs. Miya ushers her into the open dining and kitchen area where Atsumu’s head pokes out of their fridge. His mom picks up the folder of homework and instructs the girl to sit down. Atsumu soon reappears to serve her a plate of fruit roll cake.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll go hand this to Osamu and tell him to say hi t'you, sweetheart. He’ll be down in a minute.”</p><p class="p1">Her footsteps disappear into the second floor. Atsumu takes the seat across hers.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry ‘bout that. She’s a real tiger mom sometimes,” he explains. “Well, living with boys is a handful anyway,” he thinks out loud, leaning back to have his arms hanging behind the backrest.</p><p class="p1">She slices a bite-sized piece of the cake, cream oozing out. “Sorry to ask this, but I thought your brother was still sick. Shouldn’t he be in bedrest?”</p><p class="p1">She pierces the soft cake with her fork, bringing it up to her mouth.</p><p class="p1">“He’s okay now. Probably pooped the last of that month-old yakisoba out of his system yesterday.”</p><p class="p1">The cake stops just in front of her lips.</p><p class="p1">“Oh! Sorry, I forgot you were eating,” he laughs. Her mouth coils into a grin before biting into the fluffy cake.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t sweat it,” she chews. “What was he sick with? Food poisoning?”</p><p class="p1">“Had t’be. The only reason he’s point-two millimetres taller than me is ‘cause he doesn’t stop eating. He loves food so much, he wouldn't even recognize if it had gone bad.”</p><p class="p1">“Millimetres?” she almost chokes on cream. “You count even millimetres with your height?”</p><p class="p1">Her hand covers her mouth when she lets out a snicker. Of course he had to count, there was no end to their sibling rivalry.</p><p class="p1">Heavy footsteps make their way down the staircase. She looks over her shoulder to see her classmate looking bleary-eyed— that is, until his gaze finds hers. He straightens his back, walking chest-out for the rest of the travel to the dining area.</p><p class="p1">“Speak of the devil. How are ya feelin’, ‘Samu? Still feeling pretty <em>shitty</em>?”</p><p class="p1">"Pffft."</p><p class="p1">"Real corny, 'Tsumu," Osamu glares a lot like his mom. The recovering teen takes the seat beside his brother.</p><p class="p1">“Hi, [F/N]-chan. Looks like my family has been terrorizing you. Sorry ‘bout that.”</p><p class="p1">She waves her hand dismissively. “I should be the one apologizing for intruding in you guys like this. Have you recovered yet, Osamu-kun?”</p><p class="p1">Osamu casually leans into the table. “More or less. I’m used to it now, so s’not a big deal to me.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course you are, ‘Samu. Remember the time during our school trip in seventh grade, you overate at the barbecue and you had to be sent to the emergency room?”</p><p class="p1">She snorts. Osamu whips his head towards his twin, eyes lit with embarrassment.</p><p class="p1">“[L/N]-chan, did’ya know? The ambulance took an hour to get to us. ‘Samu was locked up in the bathroom and he kept wailing about how much his stomach hurt. Our classmates couldn’t shut up about the “bathroom ghost” that year.”</p><p class="p1">“No way,” her shoulders shake with laughter. “They thought Osamu-kun was a ghost?”</p><p class="p1">Osamu doesn’t even try to hide the elbow jab he gives his brother. “Yeah, I’m serious! The medical team thought he ruptured his stomach,” Atsumu recounts with a harsh cackle. “There was also this other time— it’s pretty recent, it happened last summer— we went to an amusement park, remember, ‘Samu?"</p><p class="p1">“Shut the hell up, ‘Tsumu!”</p><p class="p1">“Okay, looks like he doesn’t remember! I’ll tell you anyway,” Osamu almost lunges into Atsumu in his seat. He conceals his brother’s mouth, but his recovering strength is no match for the healthier twin. Atsumu pulls Osamu’s hand away from his lips.</p><p class="p1">“He was going crazy over all the amusement park snacks, so of course he had to try everything out,” he begins. “We were lining up for this rollercoaster ride, the one with a really big drop and four— or was it five— loops? Anyway, we got on it, right? Lucky us, we sat in the first car.”</p><p class="p1">“Stop talkin’ already, dumbass!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu engages Atsumu in a choke hold, yet it does nothing but make the latter crack up. He’s laughing so loud that Osamu’s classmate begins to wonder if their mom might come downstairs and tell them to keep it down, but even she finds herself laughing at how ugly Atsumu roared in his current position. Osamu’s warming up so bad, he looks like he could revert back to his fever.</p><p class="p1">“So we’re descending from the top, screaming our lungs out’n all. The ride was so fast that I had t'close my eyes, but I feel something wet on my arms— and I thought, wait a minute, wasn’t this a splash-free ride?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m going to kill you, ‘Tsumu, I’m serious!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu pushes his brother off the edge of his chair. Atsumu lands on his butt before collapsing his side, holding his stomach as tears spill out in amusement as he laughs even harder.</p><p class="p1">“Oh my gosh,” the girl croaks between hitches of Atsumu's infectious laughter. She leans away from the table to where Atsumu is on the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay?!”</p><p class="p1">“So I open my eyes and I turn over to Osamu— and he’s vomiting all over us!”</p><p class="p1">She brings her hands up to her mouth, trying her hardest not to let a gut-shaking laugh break free in front of Osamu. She takes a peek at the embarrassed boy whose fingers are squeezing his temples.</p><p class="p1">“It was so bad, [L/N]-chan, they had to shut the ride for the entire day so they could clean up and sanitize everything!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu slouches in his seat and he lets his soul drift off to the heavens, accompanied by the howling sounds of Atsumu and [F/N]’s laughter.</p><p class="p1">“Osamu-kun”, she calls out to him, wiping a tear from her eye. “I had no idea your brother was this funny.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, he’s funny alright,” Osamu confirms through gritted teeth. “So funny.”</p><p class="p1">Atsumu finally calms down and sits back on his chair. He shoots that infamous smirk towards his twin and it’s taking all of Osamu’s self-control not to punch him in the face, right here, right now.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I am going to suffocate you in your sleep, dickface.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Atsumu crosses his hands in front of his chest.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Try me, asswipe.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Osamu clenches his fist. Had their mother not invited his crush to their home tonight, Atsumu could have been able to sleep soundly tonight.</p><p class="p1">"Sorry, [F/N]-chan, but could'ya excuse us for a minute?" Osamu requests. He looks at Atsumu and motions to follow him to a hallway at the other side of the house.</p><p class="p1">Atsumu rises from his chair. "Whoops, looks like I'm in trouble. [L/N]-chan, if I don't come back alive, assume I've been killed," he jokes. It sends her to another laughing fit.</p><p class="p1">When the rowdy pair disappears from her sight, Osamu grabs Atsumu by the collar of his shirt.</p><p class="p1">"What the fuck are you doing, man?!"</p><p class="p1">Atsumu's face is smug. "What do you mean? I'm bustin' my ass out here doing all the hard work for you, and you return the favor like this?"</p><p class="p1">Osamu's face is irked. "You know I like her! What the hell are you doin', embarrassing me like that?!"</p><p class="p1">"Yeah, but she's loosening up, isn't she? I bet it's a lot more progress than what you've been doing for the past year."</p><p class="p1">The milder twin releases his grip on his brother's loungewear.</p><p class="p1">
  <b>Bro Code Lesson #1: If his crush is around, you’re not funnier than him.</b>
</p><p class="p1">"That doesn't mean you can make me the butt of your damn jokes, dude," Osamu warns, obviously miffed. "Stop showin' off. It's seriously pissing me off."</p><p class="p1">They barely come to a resolution before returning to the dining area, [F/N]'s plate scraped clean of any cake.</p><p class="p1">“This was really fun, but I think I should head back home. I'll go ahead and wash this up,” she stands up and takes the empty plate and fork in her hands. Atsumu grabs it away from her.</p><p class="p1">“I got this. 'Samu can walk you out, I think he’s been itching to tell you something for the longest time.”</p><p class="p1">“Quit it already!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu rolls his eyes before leading her towards the genkan, then to the front garden. The sun was already beginning to set. It was starting to get chilly.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry again for today, [F/N]-chan. Thank you for bringing my homework over, too.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay,” she grins up at him. “Please tell your mom thank you for inviting me in. And your brother for the entertainment,” she chuckles, still riding high from the enjoyment of their strange antics.</p><p class="p1">“I can’t promise ya the second request though,” Osamu tells her. “He’s a real pain in the ass sometimes. It’d be great if ya didn’t pay him any mind.”</p><p class="p1">Osamu clicks the gate open.</p><p class="p1">“Oh right, he said you wanted to tell me something? What is it?”</p><p class="p1">He turns towards her. “Don’t mind it,” he says. “He’s just messing with me.”</p><p class="p1">His classmate bats her eyelashes. “Does it have something to do with how often you talk about me with him?”</p><p class="p1">The side of his mouth twitches upwards. “Hey now, he’s just pulling your leg.”</p><p class="p1">She takes a step towards him. “Really? That's too bad. For a while there, I thought you had a thing for me.”</p><p class="p1">"You're pretty bold," Osamu leans on the gate, trapping her between his body and the fence. “And I thought ya had a thing for ‘Tsumu back there with how hard ya laughed at his jokes.”</p><p class="p1">“Why, me? The same girl who volunteered to bring you your homework so I could get an excuse to possibly see you?”</p><p class="p1">Osamu squints his eyes down on her, but it doesn't do anything to combat the blossoming blush on his cheeks. “You're joking, aren't ya?”</p><p class="p1">She ducks away and escapes from him. “I think you’ve gone numb from how much your brother makes fun of you,” she throws her head back and sends him a vulpine smile. “See you in school, Osamu-kun.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey! We’re not done talkin’ yet!”</p><p class="p1">She skips off before briefly spinning around. “Try again some other time. And don’t get too nervous, I don’t want you getting stomach aches because of it!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu watches her walk away. When Monday rolls around, he'd have to prepare himself for the fact that she was never going to live his gastric misadventures down. Plus, his supposedly secret feelings for her were, more or less, now out in the open.</p><p class="p1">And because of that, he swore he was going to kill Atsumu the moment he stepped back inside.</p><p class="p1">"What's it gonna be, 'Tsumu?! Asphyxiation? Blood loss? Internal bleeding? I’ll drown ya in the tub if I have to!”</p><p class="p1">Osamu hears Atsumu run up the staircase, the door to their shared bedroom violently jangling as the locks were secured in place.</p><p class="p1">"You're going to thank me for this in a few days, dipshit!" Osamu hears his twin shout from behind the closed door. "Just watch!"</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i think this was the most research-intensive chapter yet? did you guys know <a href="https://haikyuu.fandom.com/wiki/Osamu_Miya">osamu</a>'s taller/heavier than <a href="https://haikyuu.fandom.com/wiki/Atsumu_Miya">atsumu</a> (by just a teeny tiny bit)<br/>i also discovered that they're in neighboring classes... cute.........<br/>+++ osamu's favorite food (based on the character page) is literally ”food”<br/>like that's it. he can’t pick one so he just said “food”<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. sakusa kiyoomi • beauty marks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry i lied this is not a kuroo chapter;; i saw this in a vision ala That's So Raven style and i just had to produce it....</p><p>kuroo's up next i promise i already have the tiktok and all (eheh)</p><p>i hope this hasn't been done yet?! here's the <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/BepvAd/">tiktok</a>!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">“Kiyoomi, did you know? They say moles are where your soulmate liked to kiss you in your past life.”</p><p class="p1">The classroom is empty save for the two of you as its remaining occupants. You’re packing your notebook into your bag and Sakusa blinks at you slowly, as if expecting you to supply him with a punchline about the two beauty marks on top of his eyebrow.</p><p class="p1">He sits on the desk top adjacent to yours, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to empty your table.</p><p class="p1">“Okay?” he mumbles. You take a step towards him to smooth an ink-like curl out of his face. If it were anyone else, he’d berate them for laying a hand on his fastidious self without permission. It was the opposite with you, though. And perhaps only you.</p><p class="p1">He eases his head into your warm palm, black ribbons of hair falling between your fingers. “Why are you telling me this?”</p><p class="p1">“The ones on your forehead, can I kiss you there, too?”</p><p class="p1">The skin between his eyes and his cheekbones creases, a smile forming underneath the face mask he never leaves home without. Although you initially found it silly how wearing that piece of fabric had become routine for him, you’ve grown to appreciate the more condensed expressions of his dark eyes. Trying to gauge his countenance when half of his face was covered was some sort of a guessing game that you loved to play by.</p><p class="p1">“Why? Are you jealous of my past life’s lover?”</p><p class="p1">He cocks a teasing eyebrow up but his eyes are filled with the sort of affection that only you get the front row to seeing.</p><p class="p1">“And if I say that I am?” you play with the string of his face mask, the one that’s looped behind his ear. "Will you let me?"</p><p class="p1">He gives a short, half-suppressed laugh. “Go ahead, since you asked so nicely.”</p><p class="p1">Granted that him sitting on the table shaved off a good few inches between your heads, you lean into his face with ease. A pair of soft lips graze over the beauty marks in lingering succession. It leaves a ghost of a warm feeling on his face.</p><p class="p1">You’re about to turn away from him to zip your bag up, but the hand he rests on the small of your back stops you.</p><p class="p1">“I have another one on my face. Do you know where?”</p><p class="p1">You tilt your head. “What? No you don’t.”</p><p class="p1">“I do,” he insists. “Come here and look closer.”</p><p class="p1">Sakusa pinches the mask's metal wiring on the bridge of his nose and pulls it down to his chin. You lean in once more, eyesight sharpening on the minute details of his face for better inspection.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t see it?”</p><p class="p1">You hum a <em>nuh-uh</em>, too focused on looking for his third beauty mark.</p><p class="p1"><em>“</em>Here, I’ll help you,” he whispers before his hand lands on your jaw, thumb on the tip of your chin. He tilts your face up and your gaze peels away from the surface of his cheek and into his eyes. You know that his eyes are as black as midnight, but upon closer proximity, you see speckles of dark brown thanks to the natural light of the sun.</p><p class="p1">“Are they somewhere near your eyes? Your temples, maybe?” you question, eyes darting to and from both sides of his face.</p><p class="p1">He finds it endearing how seriously you're taking this.</p><p class="p1">“On my mouth.”</p><p class="p1">Sakusa uses his other hand to wrap around your nape, bringing your face closer to him for a gaping kiss. He doesn’t retract until he imparts a small bite on your lips, teeth grazing smoothly as he withdraws himself.</p><p class="p1">You pull back embarrassed, Sakusa laughing at your petulant expression. He pulls his face mask up before standing to his full height.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, I lied. I just wanted to kiss you.”</p><p class="p1">He zips your bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Come, let’s go.”</p><p class="p1">Sakusa stretches his hand out for yours to intertwine with. There's an amused glint in those speckled eyes and you think, <em>you always catch me by surprise</em>.</p><p class="p1">You take the hand he offers you anyway.</p><p>
  
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. kuroo tetsurou • covering up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok initially there was another tiktok i wanted to base kuroo's chapter on<br/>but i was on the app yesterday and i saw this video<br/>and my peanut brain said<br/>no. this is the ONE</p><p>here's the <a href="https://vt.tiktok.com/BxbErj/">tiktok</a>!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It was hot at first. Like, really sexually arousing. Your eyelids would flutter open, your legs would trudge to the nearest mirror, and you’d see scarlet marks littered all over your neck, your collarbone, your chest—</p><p class="p1">You get the idea.</p><p class="p1">Your eyes would twinkle at the sight boyfriend’s territorial markings. “Tetsurou-kun, you gave me so many hickies last night,” you’d simper from across the room. He props himself up on the bed, chest exposed, a blanket barely covering his waist-down. He peeks through half-lidded eyes and his drowsiness washes away when he sees you getting a kick out of his work.</p><p class="p1">He smirks at his creation, but he’s quick to apologize and ask how you plan to cover all that up.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, I’ll just put makeup over it.”</p><p class="p1">He hums in approval before patting the empty space beside your shared bed. “Come back, baby. Let’s go back to sleep,” his guttural voice mewls.</p><p class="p1">But it’s different now. He’s still the same passionately feral animal he was in bed, and you loved that about him, but your supply of color-correcting concealers and foundations were used up more for hickies than for dark circles and blemishes.</p><p class="p1">Your phone’s alarm tone finally jolts you awake. You grab it from the nightstand to see that you, being the sleepyhead that you are, slept through not one, but two alarms again. You’re as equally shocked to see Kuroo still completely knocked out beside you.</p><p class="p1">Your eyes crack wide open, your legs make a mad dash to the mirror, and you see a fresh batch of love bites imprinted all over your body. You don’t know if it's shock, annoyance, or anger that takes over you, but you do know you have no idea how to deal with this now that you’re running late.</p><p class="p1">“Tetsurou!”</p><p class="p1">Kuroo springs himself up, eyes frantically looking around the room. “Wah— what?!”</p><p class="p1">“Are you kidding me?! I'm meeting your family today and I don’t have any more makeup to cover this up!”</p><p class="p1">He squints his eyes at you before he catches on. “Oh. Haha, oopsies.”</p><p class="p1">He falls back into the soft bed before you disturb him again.</p><p class="p1">“Tetsurou, get up! We’re running late! It’s already eleven-thirty and we’re meeting them at noon!”</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend springs out of bed and scrambles towards the bathroom. While he’s showering, you rummage through your closet to find clothing articles that could cover your marked areas. You click your tongue, feeling bad for the cute outfit you initially wanted to wear to this first meeting.</p><p class="p1">“Damn it, that square neckline dress screamed wife material too,” you grumble under your breath. Your hand yanks out black turtleneck— it’s too plain for a family lunch, but it will have to do— and then a pair of denim jeans in another drawer.</p><p class="p1">Before you completely pull out your replacement outfit, your turtleneck snags on the end of the drawer and it pokes a needle-sized hole in the fabric. In your state of panic, you pull it towards you anyway. You realize that maybe that was a really stupid, idiotic idea when the threads begin to come undone and it creates a finger’s length tear. smack. in. the. middle. of. the. shirt.</p><p class="p1">You’re about to cry.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, <em>fuck</em> me!”</p><p class="p1">“What?” Kuroo’s voice cuts through the shower.</p><p class="p1">“Nothing, hurry up and finish so I can shower next!”</p><p class="p1">You take a second to yourself. <em>No, we’ll be okay. This is fine. We just need to improvise, adapt, and overcome.</em></p><p class="p1">You toss the turtleneck to the side and search through your drawer for the next most conservative-looking shirt. You spot a white round-neck blouse with flowy sleeves and think, <em>yes, this is fine, this looks good, I can just style my hair so that it covers my neck area</em>—</p><p class="p1">The door swings open and Kuroo finally steps out of the shower, your body almost colliding into him when you run into the bathroom. You slip on some soapy water on the tiled floor but you restrain yourself from telling him to clean up after himself. There's not enough time. He gets dressed, you finish showering, and you change into your new, last-minute outfit.</p><p class="p1">Kuroo’s changing the sheets bearing last night’s evidence while you sit in front of the vanity, massaging styling product into your hair before blowing it dry. You plug in a curling iron into a nearby outlet.</p><p class="p1">“Your hair’s fine, babe. You don’t need to curl it for my family.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m not curling it for your family, I’m curling it to save myself from embarrassment! If I add more volume to my hair, I can cover the hickies <em>you gave me</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Kuroo holds himself back from laughing when he looks at the glaring red marks on your neck. The blouse you’re wearing is enough to cover the hickies on your collarbone to chest area, but it misses a number on the upper parts of your neck. You’re lucky he only bit the expanse of skin underneath your ear, otherwise you’d have to take a detour to the nearest drugstore to purchase makeup and show up even later than you already are.</p><p class="p1">You do your usual look and dab the very little foundation you have left on the more prominent hickies. You give up when you realize the clock says 11:45 AM, trusting your hair to curtain over the still-visible spots.</p><p class="p1">“Tetsurou, you’re buying my makeup after today’s lunch,” you glower at him. He smirks at you.</p><p class="p1">“Anything for you, babe.”</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">Your movements are unnaturally stiff when you help Kuroo’s grandmother set the table. You can’t help but freeze up whenever tendrils of hair so as much inch away from your neck.</p><p class="p1">“[F/N]-chan, you seem like you have a stiff neck. What happened?”</p><p class="p1">You manage an awkward smile. “Yes, obaa-san, I, uh—“ your eyes dart to a nearby shelf full of cooking books. “I was reading last night.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, how wonderful! What books do you like to read?”</p><p class="p1">You gulp. “C-cooking books! I love to cook!”</p><p class="p1">Well that was a blatant lie. You order food so much that the delivery man assigned to your area is practically your friend.</p><p class="p1">The Kuroo family finally settles around the dining area. You sit in between your boyfriend and his dad while his grandparents sit across you three.</p><p class="p1">“Dear, did you know that [F/N]-chan likes to cook?”</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend nudges you with his knee under the table. As much as you’d like to simply turn your head towards him, your perfectly-styled hair might shift and expose last night’s dirty deed. It takes too much effort to physically rotate your torso towards him.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>You can’t even boil an egg.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Shut up. Play along.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Kuroo fishes out thick udon noodles from his ceramic bowl, his upturned lips sending an all-knowing look your way before he slurps it into his mouth.</p><p class="p1">Kuroo’s grandpa smiles at the revelation. “That’s great! Cook for us next time you visit, will you?”</p><p class="p1">You smile and give him a curt nod, careful not to move your hair too much. You pick up your chopsticks and stare at the biggest obstacle thus far— eating soup noodles without pulling your hair back.</p><p class="p1">“What’s wrong, [F/N]-chan?” Kuroo’s dad looks at you. “Is the food not to your liking?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh no! I’m just taking a moment to appreciate the dish. Obaa-san’s nabeyaki udon looks like it came straight out of a restaurant,” you assure through a glittering smile.</p><p class="p1">“You’re too sweet! Go ahead, please start.”</p><p class="p1">You gingerly lean into the bowl, millimetre by millimetre, ready to recoil your back if the slightest hair strand is out of place. Everyone, with the exception of your boyfriend, watches you until you slip a noodle into your mouth. “It’s delicious!”</p><p class="p1">Everyone returns to their own bowls. While their eyes are too busy picking out which soup topping to consume next, you study your pot and target a long strip of fish cake.</p><p class="p1">“Have you been well, Tetsu-chan?” his grandma asks. “College must be tiring, no?”</p><p class="p1">“It is, but ever since [F/N] and I moved in together, it’s been a lot easier.”</p><p class="p1">“How about food? You’re not running out of groceries any time soon, aren’t you?” his grandma puts a flower-shaped carrot slice in her mouth. “Let me know if you’re craving our home-cooked meals. Grandma will send them your way.”</p><p class="p1">You’re about to put some fish cakes in your mouth until Kuroo’s grandpa points out that a lock of your hair is swimming in your soup.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Tetsurou, give her some tissue,” his grandpa directs. You take it and wipe the broth out of your curls, still not leaning back into your chair.</p><p class="p1">“[F/N]-chan, you should put your hair behind your shoulders. You can’t be enjoying noodles if it’s covering your face like that,” his grandma imparts.</p><p class="p1">Your whole body tenses up.</p><p class="p1">“Maybe you’d like a hair tie? I can get you one,” she adds.</p><p class="p1">“No! I mean, no thank you, obaa-san. I’ll just push my hair back.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, go on then.”</p><p class="p1">There are no words in the Japanese language that could convey how scared shitless you are right now. You catch your animal of a boyfriend shrinking into his seat, folding himself up like origami, awaiting the big reveal at your dignity’s expense. Yeah, you’re definitely not dropping by just any drugstore for makeup. You are going to drag his ass to the department store and you will clear all of Shiseido’s foundations off the rack. You might even drop by Tatcha for some skin care.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I am going to make his pockets hurt.</em>
</p><p class="p1">You gingerly tuck your tresses behind your ears before your fingers travel to the hair that trails from your nape-down. You push your curled locks away from your face, away from the food, and you bare your ravaged throat to his family.</p><p class="p1">You hold your breath and accept your fate.</p><p class="p1">Kuroo's dad's eyes flicker. Kuroo's grandparents, on the other hand, drop their jaws.</p><p class="p1">If you listen close enough, you can register the sound of Kuroo groaning. It's a cross between an animal in pain and radio static. You're not sure, you can't hear very well with your own rapid heartbeat pulsing through your eardrums.</p><p class="p1">There's an awkward beat of silence before the father beside you finally clears his throat.</p><p class="p1">“Okaa-san,” his dad finally mutters. “I think you do need to send Tetsurou some more food. He's so hungry, he’s going to eat his girlfriend up at this rate.”</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend slams his face into his palms, face burning in embarrassment. His grandpa coughs, almost choking on a noodle, while his grandma simply assumes the most pained expression you’ve ever seen on an old lady. You've only known her for a few hours but something about the gaze in her eyes looks like she's shaming even your Muromachi-age ancestors.</p><p class="p1">“Tetsu-chan, I don’t remember raising you like this.”</p><p class="p1">Tetsurou’s father is sent into a fit, laughing at his own dad joke.</p><p class="p1">Your boyfriend is so devastated that it looks like his perpetual bedhead is going limp.</p><p class="p1">“Tou-san," he howls, "Stop!”</p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yes it is true;; kuroo only lives with his <a href="http://haikyuu.fandom.com/wiki/Tetsur%C5%8D_Kuroo">dad and grandparents</a>, so i imagine him to be a huge grandma' boy</p><p>and seeing how much he loves riling up tsukishima during the tokyo training camp arc, i also thought that his dad probably treats him the same lmao</p><p>(if you're wondering what meal they were eating, this is what a <a href="https://www.justonecookbook.com/nabeyaki-udon/">nabeyaki udon</a> looks like)</p><p>f in the chat for this reader-chan</p>
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